The Eclectic Review, 7. kötet

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C. Taylor, 1854
 

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153. oldal - Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests: in all time, Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm. Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime; The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible: even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
3. oldal - Or sculpture, speak in feeble imagery Their own cold powers. Art and eloquence, And all the shows o' the world, are frail and vain To weep a loss that turns their lights to shade. It is a woe 'too deep for tears' when all Is reft at once, when some surpassing Spirit, Whose light adorned the world around it, leaves Those who remain behind, not sobs or groans, The passionate tumult of a clinging hope, — But pale despair and cold tranquillity, Nature's vast frame, the web of human things, Birth and...
507. oldal - The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms and watery depths ; all these have vanished ; They live no longer in the faith of reason...
367. oldal - I, AB, do swear, that I will be faithful and bear true Allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Victoria...
723. oldal - Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; Like crested leader proud and high...
231. oldal - ... it had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in its hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the world was behind its back ; it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over its head.
580. oldal - When JESUS, therefore, saw his mother, and the disciple standing by whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son. Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother. And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.
225. oldal - The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity; but a wounded spirit who can bear?
522. oldal - This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, The twilight of our day, the vestibule : Life's theatre as yet is shut, and Death, Strong Death, alone .can heave the massy bar, This gross impediment of clay remove, And make us embryos of existence free.
440. oldal - The destinies of our Indian empire are covered with thick darkness. It is difficult to form any conjecture as to the fate reserved for a state which resembles no other in history, and which forms by itself a separate class of political phenomena.

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